No Destiny 3 - Innocence Lost
by leaysaye
Summary: The prison is overrun and Daryl flees with Beth. Will they be able to cope? Rick/Daryl, slash. This is the third part in a series. Major hurt/comfort. Illness. Sickfic.
1. Chapter 1

Within hours Daryl knew he was in trouble. When he had grabbed Beth and run with her from the prison his only thought had been to keep her safe. That he wouldn't be able to do that if his body betrayed him again hadn't even crossed his mind until it was too late.

On that first day he'd still had some hope of finding some of the others. He kept his eyes trained on the underbrush, scanning for any sign that something living had passed through these woods recently. As the hours passed and he felt the familiar pressure behind his eyes increasing his hope turned to desperation.

He knew that with the adrenaline and stress of the day it was merely a matter of time before the migraine would return with a vengeance. They would be very lucky to come across any signs of human habitation, let alone a pharmacy still stocked with pain meds before it laid him low again.

The night in the boot of a car didn't help. Daryl didn't say anything to Beth, she was already scared enough. He was still hoping against hope that this time it would just blow over. A sleepless night crammed into a tiny space did of course nothing to quell the rising tension and pain.

When Beth got fed up with it all next day he couldn't really blame her. As soon as she stormed off Daryl knew he had to follow her and make sure she was all right, even though he felt awful and just wanted to rest for a little longer. Eating the snake meat had been a mistake, but he'd hoped that if he gave his body some nutrients it might decide to cooperate. That had been a big miscalculation.

He stumbled after Beth for a few minutes, but he knew he couldn't hold the sickness at bay much longer. His head felt like it was being cracked into two again, and his vision was blurring in and out of focus, which added to the nausea. He had a coppery taste on the back of his tongue which reminded him strongly of blood.

That did it. He had almost caught up to Beth, there were maybe twenty more yards between them, but Daryl knew throwing up was inevitable now. He stopped by a tree and steadied himself with one hand. Even though he was stationary the world seemed to still be moving.

"Beth."

He wasn't sure his voice had been loud enough to carry, but he saw her turn around just before he lost all control. The burning of the stomach acid in his throat was such a familiar feeling now, and no more welcome for it. The thought of the snake made him retch even harder. As usual, he just couldn't manage to stay upright and hit the ground hard when his knees buckled.

Then Beth was by his side. Daryl couldn't lie to himself, he wanted Rick to be there with him more than ever now. He was the only one he felt truly safe with when this thing hit and put him out of action. This was exactly the kind of situation they'd been afraid of, out in the woods alone, or near as. It was bad enough being dependent on the group, but needing Beth to be strong for him was tearing him apart.

"Oh, Daryl, I'm sorry! I'd forgotten all about it… You don't have any pills on you, do you?"

He managed to shake his head, then retched again when a new wave of nausea hit. How could there still be anything to bring up? Daryl was shaking, he felt like he was going to pass out. Trying to sit back and straighten up just brought more dizziness, and his stomach cramped painfully. He groaned, doubling up again.

Beth knelt down beside him. "Lean on me, Daryl. I know that's what Rick does. Come on, I can take it, I'm not squeamish. I grew up on a farm, remember?"

So Daryl took Beth up on the offer and let himself relax against her. He didn't dare slump into her like he usually did with Rick, letting go of the tension completely, but it still felt good to have someone hold him up. He tried to breathe through the lingering nausea now, closing his eyes and concentrating on keeping the world from spinning.

His head felt worse than he could ever remember. The throbbing, which was usually centered behind his eyes, slightly to the left or right, seemed now to come from all angles. He could hear hardly anything through a weird humming that seemed to get steadily louder, then died away again, then came back louder than before.

Beth was stroking his back in slow circles, which felt nice. Then he could feel her hand on his forehead for a moment.

"You are burning up, Daryl." Her voice sounded worried. "We have no water, and I can't leave you to try and find any. We need to move."

Daryl knew she was right, but the thought was the most unappealing thing just that moment. He knew it would only get worse before it got better, and if he didn't get off the ground now he might never get up again once the dehydration started adding to his dismal condition. He tried to push himself up.

"Let me help."

Beth stood and helped Daryl pull himself back to standing using the tree for balance. Once upright Daryl thought for a moment that he was going straight back down again, that's how shaky he felt. Either that or vomit again. In the end he did neither. Beth stood patiently, letting Daryl get his bearing and sanity back.

Daryl was afraid of the next bit. Beth seemed to be able to read his thoughts because she stepped close and slipped his arm around her shoulders after slipping the crossbow over her back.

"Lean on me. We'll never get anywhere if you don't let me help."

Unlike Rick Beth could not half carry him, of course. Daryl fought hard to keep enough control not to go too slack, but it was becoming harder to do as they continued through the undergrowth. His vision became worse, the light was like a knife constantly slicing into his brain. The worse the blurriness and spots clouding Daryl's vision, the harder it became to suppress the sickness.

Eventually he could no longer keep it under control. Beth didn't let go, she held him up as well as she could as Daryl brought up more bile, accompanied by the familiar sensation of tears running down his face with the agony of it.

Daryl could feel himself getting weaker, and he couldn't stop the shivering caused by dehydration and the fever. Finally they reached the edge of the woods, but Daryl couldn't even see clearly enough now to check whether there were any lurkers or other dangers lingering nearby.

"It's a cemetery," Beth said. Daryl found it hard to hear her as she continued, "I can see a building, just over there. Might be a funeral home… It's another fifty yards, or so, can you manage?"

"Yeah, just a sec…"

But waiting any longer didn't help. If anything, standing around just made him weaker. Beth seemed able to tell because she shifted to take more of his weight. Daryl tried to pull back, almost stumbled.

"Don't. 'm too heavy…"

"Never mind, Daryl. Let's just get you in there. We can't stay out here, it's getting late…"

It was a long fifty yards to the funeral home. Daryl didn't have a recollection later how they managed it, he just knew that by the end of the ordeal he was almost blind with pain. Beth lowered him onto the stoop outside the back door when they finally reached the building.

"I need to go and check it out first."

Daryl knew she was right, but he didn't like it. She still had the crossbow, though he wasn't sure how much good that would be, she could hardly lift it. But he couldn't help, it was all he could do now not to pass out. As Beth disappeared through the door a fresh wave of nausea hit and before he was even really conscious of it more sick was splattering the ground in front of him.

When this bout of nausea ceased Daryl pulled his knees up on the stoop, trying to avoid the puke but sure he'd gotten it all over himself anyway. He rested his head on his knees, savoring the semi-darkness that was soothing behind his eyelids. His throat was raw from the bile and all his muscles ached. He was still shivering uncontrollably.

Finally Beth was back. Daryl didn't hear her until she crouched down by his side and touched his arm, which made him flinch, bringing more stabs of pain. He wasn't sure he hadn't nodded off for a moment, and felt badly shaken by that thought. He was not safe out here, and he was a liability to Beth. How he wished they could have gotten away with Rick…

"Come on. Coast is clear. There's a sofa in one of the offices, I've already lowered the blinds."

Beth got him off the steps, how he had no idea. He could hardly stand now and the ground pitched and roiled sickeningly below him. When they got through the door Daryl steadied himself with one hand against the wall. Beth led him into one of the rooms near the front and helped him stretch out on the sofa there.

The feeling of finally being out of the glaring light, and able to lie down on something soft without the immediate fear of walkers looming was wonderful. Daryl closed his eyes and just concentrated on breathing for a few moments. When he opened his eyes again he saw Beth crouching by his side. Her face was creased with worry. She placed a hand against his neck for a moment.

"You're still hot as a furnace, and you look awful. Stay right here, I'll be back as soon as I can with whatever supplies I can rustle up."

She disappeared and Daryl closed his eyes again. This time he was sure he fell asleep, and it felt like bliss. He was aware that he had to allow himself to rest and knew better now than to fight his body when it became uncooperative. It didn't do any good and actually made recovery harder.

When he woke up it was dark outside. Beth was back in the room but she was sitting by the light of only one candle. She came over as soon as he stirred.

"Was I out long?"

"Couple of hours maybe. I thought I'd let you sleep. Has it helped any?"

Daryl gave a small shrug. His head was still throbbing, but the nausea was a bit less pronounced, and lying down the room wasn't spinning so much. Beth went over to a desk in the corner and retrieved a glass of water and something small, which she held out to Daryl as she returned.

"Tylenol, only thing I found, but there's plenty."

Daryl propped himself on one elbow, and a searing bolt of pain shot through his head. He groaned, closing his eyes, willing the throbbing to subside. When he felt it ebbing away he opened his eyes again and took the pills from Beth. He swallowed two with some water and lay back down. Tylenol never did much for this migraine, but it had to be better than nothing.

Or maybe not. A minute or so after swallowing the pills he could feel the sickness press against his skull again. This time he came up to sitting much more quickly. Beth was still hovering close by.

"Are you going to throw up?" She was already moving.

Daryl managed another nod and Beth was there with a metal basin just in time. It was a relief that this time the nausea passed quickly once the pills and water had come back up. Daryl lay back down, shaking again. Beth put the basin on the floor close by and now came over with a wet cloth which she placed on Daryl's burning head. It felt soothing enough for tears to prickle behind his closed eyelids again.

"We need to get some water into you, Daryl, you are dangerously dehydrated. Maybe without the Tylenol it'll stay down?"

Daryl felt very thirsty. "Let's try it."

A few sips were fine and soon Daryl found himself nodding off again. He tried to keep his eyes open, not wanting Beth to stay awake alone, but she noticed, sitting on the floor close by him. She put a hand on his cheek and gave a brave little smile.

"Go to sleep. I don't mind staying up, and you badly need some rest."

She dipped the cloth into the bowl of water by her feet again and replaced it on his forehead. Then she started humming a song very softly that she'd often sung for them at the prison and Daryl closed his eyes. The familiar tune was soothing and he was soon asleep.

Beth looked at Daryl where he was sleeping on the horribly green sofa. His face was not peaceful even in sleep. She could still see the lines etched into his forehead that had become deeper all day as the pain got more and more unbearable. His cheeks were flushed, but not in a healthy way.

Even sitting a few feet away Beth could feel the heat radiating off Daryl. Other than the flushed cheeks his color was somewhere between clay gray and ghostly white. There were dark circles under his eyes and he looked gaunt in the candle light.

Their situation was close to impossible. Beth knew that they both needed to find the others as soon as possible or they would never make it. She'd be all right for a while if she was on her own. Beth knew she was stronger than the others gave her credit for, but she wasn't strong enough to help Daryl navigate this wilderness in his condition. Hopefully he'd recover somewhat before they were forced to move on.

Because Beth knew that their respite could only be temporary, and that new horrors were already waiting in the off. And that neither of them was ready to face whatever came next.


	2. Chapter 2

As it did when Daryl's condition became bad time started to blur. He woke again some time before daybreak, feeling better and actually rested. He managed to take and keep down a few Tylenol and ate some of the crackers Beth had found. His fever had receded and he stayed up while Beth got a few hours rest.

The improvement didn't last. As soon as the sun came up and started filtering into the room through the slits in the blinds the headache returned, and the nausea wasn't far behind. It didn't take long before Daryl was huddled over the basin again. His retching woke Beth who was by his side immediately, but other than replacing the cool cloth when Daryl was finally able to lie back down without gagging she couldn't do anything.

When Daryl could think clearly enough to be coherent he was desperately afraid for them both, and he knew that Beth was, too. He tried to stay asleep, facing the back of the sofa to shut out as much of the light as he could, but the day passed without much improvement.

They could do nothing but hope that with more rest things would improve, and that they would get that rest without interruption. In the past Daryl's pain had rarely passed without access to pain medication, but it usually improved after a few days. For now, they were trapped.

Beth stayed with Daryl almost constantly, as he'd asked her to during a lucid period. He would not allow her to go out and try to get anything to help him, it was just too dangerous. Also, if someone or something attacked them in here he had at least a chance to defend them if he conserved his energies and didn't venture out of the darkened room on a wild goose chase.

Beth had raided the rest of the building for sheets or blankets and had hung what she had found over the windows in their room. The resulting near-darkness was soothing, and the second day Daryl really did feel better. But in the evening the fever returned, and with it the pain.

"I don't understand this, Daryl. I thought only kids get fever with a migraine," Beth said as she replaced the cloth again. The one place she had gone several times was the pump out front, which had been an unexpected bonus of finding this place.

Daryl didn't answer. He could feel the nausea creeping up again. He closed his eyes, willing it away. This was too much, he couldn't handle it. His throat was aching from the constant vomiting, he was dangerously dehydrated and too weak to even sit up for any stretch of time. Beth seemed able to tell what was happening to him. When he opened his eyes, already struggling back up she was there with the basin. She held it as he retched, bringing up hardly anything now but unable to stop.

His brain felt fuzzy when he lay back down, and breathing seemed suddenly an effort. Beth brought a water bottle and made him drink a few sips, then wiped his face and arms with the cool cloth. He could feel the sweat cooling against his skin and was grateful when Beth pulled a blanket up to his shoulders.

Beth gave it five minutes to see if the water stayed down, then was back with the bottle. She kept this up for what felt like hours. Eventually Daryl drifted off, but she woke him every so often for more water.

"I'm sorry to keep disturbing you," she said when he was struggling up from unconsciousness yet again, "but if you don't get more fluids in you'll go into shock." She squeezed the skin on the back of his hand. "Checking how bad the dehydration it," she explained. "If the skin doesn't return to normal within a moment it's bad." She looked down and sighed. "As I thought…"

Daryl drifted off again. The whole night and the next day passed like this. Daryl had never felt so tired in his life. "It's the dehydration," Beth said when he mentioned this. "It'll pass once you can stop the vomiting." And finally, he seemed to be able to. The pain in his head slowly subsided for good, the nausea grew first manageable and then disappeared. When night broke again he felt that he was really recovering.

"Get some sleep now," he said to Beth when he woke at nightfall on their third day in the building. "'m feeling much better." She nodded, but before she lay down she brought him some of the rations she'd scavenged from the rest of the house. "Not much is left, but you need to eat something, or we'll never get out of here."

They were lucky the respite had lasted this long, but that night their luck ran out. Daryl was still keeping watch while Beth slept when he heard a banging and then a crash from the front of the house. Beth sat up immediately, so used to disturbed nights that she was hardly a step behind Daryl as he made for the door. The crossbow was in his hand automatically, he didn't even remember picking it up.

When he opened the door and looked towards the front door down the hall he thought his blood had frozen in his veins. A dozen or more walkers were already advancing on them through the splintered doorframe. Clearly the door had simply given way under the barrage of bodies.

"Run, Beth! Get out the back, now!" Daryl managed to get one bolt into the crossbow and fired. He didn't wait to see if it hit its target.

How he got out himself he never knew. There was a rushing sound in his ears. No pain now, but he knew his adrenaline-fueled energy would not last long. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest much harder than he would expect even with the exertion of running.

Daryl couldn't see Beth, but he spotted some twigs in the bushes towards the front of the house that were still swaying. He made for that spot. When he had fought his way through the brush he realized how close they had been to a road. What he saw in the distance made his veins freeze again, and his wildly beating heart missed a step.

The tail lights of a car were just discernible in the distance, receding fast.

Daryl couldn't run any more. He'd made it maybe a mile, maybe a little more, but now he was out of breath, shaky and seeing stars. He'd started after the car on an impulse, knowing he'd never be able to catch up. Not even if he'd been well could he have done it, now it was a small miracle that he'd not just keeled over after five minutes.

Utterly exhausted Daryl staggered to a halt. His knees buckled and he let himself drop to the ground, shaking with exhaustion, feeling defeated. The one small mercy was that his headache had not returned.

When he heard the footsteps approach and saw the leather boots stop right in front of him Daryl hardly looked up.

"Well look at you…"


	3. Chapter 3

"Rick..." Daryl only managed a whisper. He was certain he was about to pass out. He felt himself swaying on the spot, trying to be ready for the impact onto the tarmac, but then Rick's arms were around him, lowering him slowly.

Daryl's world narrowed to a pinpoint and then he knew nothing.

When Daryl woke up he needed a few moments for the memories to return. Then he felt Rick's hands on his face and chest and realized where they were, and what had happened. Daryl looked up and could see Rick leaning over him, concern on his face. When he saw that Daryl was awake the crease of his brow lessened somewhat.

"I was starting to worry. What happened? Is it the headache?"

Daryl was struggling to sit up. Rick helped, then handed him a bottle of water. Daryl drank, wincing. His throat ached from dehydration, and he felt himself shiver. He lowered the bottle and sank into Rick as the other man scooted closer. His ribs ached, from where Joe's men had kicked him. There was a buzzing in his ears again, and for the moment he wasn't sure whether this meant a new onslaught of migraine or just the exhaustion catching up with him.

"Beth… they took her. We were holed up for days, my headache came back… and now she's gone…"

He looked up at Rick, seeing him clearly for the first time. "Why are you covered in blood?"

Rick looked to where Joe's body lay but didn't say anything. He put his arms around Daryl and held him close.

They'd decided to lay low for at least a day. Rick had made that decision after Daryl had struggled to his feet and immediately crumpled into his arms in the morning, after the night in the middle of the road. What they found wasn't great, just an old and empty barn, but it was clear that in his condition Daryl wouldn't be walking anywhere until he'd had a proper rest and gotten some fluids into him.

Michonne and Carl had gone out scouting, trying to rustle up something, anything to eat. Daryl badly needed it, but their fallback plan of squirrel was out of the question. Daryl could barely stand up, even getting him to the barn had been a huge challenge.

Rick had been horrified by how much weight Daryl had lost. He had been able to feel every rib while he had half carried his man until they found the barn. Daryl had been verging on gaunt at the prison but now he was way past that. And Rick had no idea how to fix it, not now. Maybe Terminus would be the answer to that question, too.

He gazed at Daryl now, curled up under their one blanket, asleep. He'd been out as soon as they'd set up camp. His face was pale, there was sweat beading on his forehead. Rick was worried the headaches were coming back, even though Daryl had assured him they weren't.

Suddenly Daryl's face creased and he gave a low moan. Rick was crouching by his side in under a second, not sure whether to wake him. He realized that Daryl looked afraid rather than in pain. A nightmare. Before Rick had made his mind up on whether to wake him after all Daryl opened his eyes and gave a start.

His gaze was unfocused for a moment, then he seemed to recognize Rick. Gently, Rick pushed the hair off Daryl's sweaty forehead.

"You had a nightmare, man. It's ok, it'll pass in a moment."

Daryl's breathing calmed at the words. He lifted a hand and put it on Rick's chest, threading his fingers into the fabric, trying to pull Rick down. Afraid that this move was not advisable Rick leaned down and into the kiss anyway. Despite the worry and stress he felt his body responding immediately. It had been way too long since they'd had some time alone together.

When Daryl finally broke the kiss he pulled Rick in even closer.

"Need you, man. Will you fuck me?"

Absolutely certain that this was a bad idea Rick straightened up and looked into the other man's eyes.

"I don't know, Daryl. You're hurt, and I don't want to make it worse..."

"You won't. Please, Rick."

The truth was, Rick wanted to so badly, and he wanted Daryl to feel better even more. Thinking briefly about Michonne and Carl returning to find them in a compromising position he gave a mental shrug. They'd seen worse, and anyway, Michonne had in all likelihood thought of the probability of this happening and would take precautions.

Rick stretched out on the hard ground next to Daryl. He was going to take this one slow, at least. Be as careful as he could. He propped himself on one elbow and with the other hand started caressing Daryl's face. His man's eyes slowly closed, he stretched into to touch, like a cat.

Rick could tell how strong Daryl's need was for some gentleness, some respite from the brutal reality. He could only imagine how afraid his lover must have been, alone and helpless, trying to keep a teenager alive while not even able to look after himself. He was glad now that he'd decided to give in to the other's urging.

Rick let his hand travel down onto Daryl's chest, unbuttoning the shirt one button at a time. When the shirt fell open Rick had to fight hard to keep his face impassive at the sight of the emaciated ribcage. Daryl was also sporting several bruises, from the kicking he had received at the hands of Joe's gang.

Daryl looked at him and Rick thought the other man was likely picking up on the worried thoughts going through his mind. He didn't say anything, just took Rick's hand and pulled it down to come to rest on his waistband.

Doing his best to ignore the sunken feel of Daryl's stomach Rick unbuttoned his fly one handed, slipped his fingers past fabric and took Daryl in his hand. He was already hard, and the touch made his erection grow more. Rick savored the feeling of Daryl's cock. He loved holding him, having Daryl trust him enough to be this vulnerable around him. When he'd first gotten sick Rick had been afraid that Daryl would pull away, would no longer want to be with him. Fortunately that fear could be laid to rest.

Starting slow, light strokes and savoring the sensation of soft, warm skin against his hand Rick leaned down and kissed Daryl long and deep. Then he straightened up again, let go for the moment and started undoing his own pants. Daryl meanwhile lifted himself until he could pull his pants and underpants down, shrug out of them and drop them by his side.

Rick couldn't help but study Daryl's naked form while undressing. The usually narrow hips were even narrower now, and every bone stood out in stark contrast. That Rick's body still responded to the sight of the other man was, he thought, a sign that whatever connected them must be stronger than illness, desperation or mere physical attraction.

Once his pants had joined the heap of clothes on the floor Rick kneeled between Daryl's spread legs. Daryl took his own erection into one hand as Rick positioned himself. They were so familiar with each other now, and relaxed, that Rick no longer worried about using only spit as lubrication.

Daryl moan as Rick placed a wet finger between his buttocks and slowly pushed in. His breath was speeding up now, and for a moment Rick was slightly worried at how much strain the arousal seemed to be putting on Daryl. But the other man was clearly enjoying the sensation so Rick pushed all misgivings to one side again.

Rick took his own cock into his free hand and prepared it with more spit. Then he placed the head against Daryl's entrance immediately after pulling back his finger. Daryl's moans intensified. Slowly Rick started pushing in.

Daryl took some time to adjust to Rick inside him, and Rick didn't rush him. He watched his lover's face carefully for an indication that Daryl was comfortable. There was a flush now to his cheeks which Rick was not entirely sure looked healthy. But he pushed the thought away. Finally, Daryl's eyes opened a crack and sought out Rick's. He gave a tiny nod.

Rick pushed in further. Daryl took his own erection again and started stroking himself. He looked more relaxed with every movement on his shaft, so Rick reached out and put his own hand over Daryl's.

"Let me," he whispered and Daryl relinquished at once. His eyes fell closed again now and Rick pushed in all the way. Daryl bit his lip and gave a little moan. Rick started moving slowly, matching his thrusts to the movement on Daryl's shaft, which seemed to be exactly the right speed to make the other man feel good.

There was little change in Daryl as he approached the peak. He was never very loud or restless during sex, but this time Rick had to pay very close attention to see the signs. The high color in his cheeks, the rapid breaths and the hands bunched into the blanket were the only indication. When he tipped over the edge Daryl's head arched back and he bit his lip, breath stalling.

Rick had meant to wait a few moments before resuming his pace, to make sure Daryl was okay and he wasn't hurting him by carrying on after the other man had already come. When his lover's reaction stayed so strangely subdued however Rick waited a little longer, and finally slipped out. He wiped Daryl's cum off his hand and the other man's belly with a cloth, then leaned down and placed a hand against Daryl's cheek.

It was like touching a furnace, and Rick jerked his hand away as if scalded. The feverish flush, for Rick now knew what it was, had spread to Daryl's neck and chest.

Rick hurriedly pulled his own pants back on, all thought of passion now forgotten. Getting Daryl back into his own clothes was less of a challenge than he had thought it would be owing to him being so much lighter. Daryl was no help, however, he seemed to be only partly conscious.

When Rick was just rebuttoning his shirt Daryl's eyes opened and he tried to focus on Rick. "What happened?"

Daryl's voice sounded slurred, but faintly scared. His hands tried to push Rick's away and Rick stopped, holding onto Daryl's fingers without pressure, to reassure but not scare.

"It's ok, man. You just need some rest. I'm making sure you're warm enough, alright."

Daryl nodded then his eyes closed again and he seemed to slip into an uneasy sleep. Rick spread all of their bedding and spare clothing over Daryl who had started shivering the moment he closed his eyes again. Rick didn't know what else to do. There were a few Advil at the bottom of one of their makeshift bags, but he was loath to wake the other man again so soon. Instead, since he had nothing else to give, he slipped under the makeshift covers with him and pulled Daryl close, sharing what comfort and body heat he could.


	4. Chapter 4

Sick with worry, that would describe it, if anything could. Daryl had disappeared, and Rick couldn't concentrate on anything else. And there was so much to do... Why now? What had happened? Had he and Carol left of their own accord? Or were they now in the hands of another gang like Joe's? And Daryl, how could he look after himself? Just a few days ago he'd been so weak he could hardly walk. What would happen if the headache returned?

That nightmare at Terminus, what a miracle they'd all made it through. There had been hardly time to regroup, and now this. Rick had had no time to check in properly with Daryl, had been busy with Judith, then with that priest. He didn't know how his lover was feeling, how he was dealing with it all. Having Carol back certainly must've been as much a relief for Daryl as it was for Rick, if not more so. And he'd seen him eating at their impromptu feast, which was good, too. But why would he disappear now?

Most likely he and Carol were together. But Rick had also assumed Bob was safe, and now he was dead. Abraham was chomping at the bits to be gone, they had to deal with the Terminus survivors, and all Rick could think about was Daryl, praying that he was safe.

Getting Daryl back had been the first thing to go right since the prison. When he suddenly appeared from behind the cars Rick had known they would get out of this alive, because he would've done anything to save Daryl. Then, when Daryl's condition had worsened so dramatically while they were hiding out in the barn, Rick had been afraid he'd lose him after all. His fever had climbed steadily during that awful day and he'd been completely incoherent.

The fever had broken in the early hours the next morning. Rick had decided that they would need at least another day for Daryl to regain some strength. Daryl had slept most of the time. When he was awake Rick had pestered him relentlessly about eating as much of the modest provisions Michonne and Carl had been able to rustle up as he could manage. The next morning Daryl had looked much better, and while not as strong as usual had been easily able to keep up with them as they resumed their walk towards Terminus.

And then Terminus. In Rick's mind it was all a blur. Daryl had been at his side throughout it all, and he seemed to have held up well enough. But now they all needed a proper rest, not another crisis. They might have even gotten it here at the church, but now Rick's mind was full of worry yet again. Mentally cursing it all Rick pushed on with the tasks ahead.

"He's back. And he's brought company." Michonne had stepped close to Rick and now pointed to the church entrance where Daryl was standing with a stranger. Rick's heart skipped a beat, seeing his lover looking unharmed.

Rick walked over, giving the unknown boy with Daryl a quick once over. He looked about twenty, and while his gaze darted nervously he seemed unlikely to be a threat.

"Name?"

The boy looked at him. "Noah."

"Where'd you come from?"

"I was at the hospital, with Beth."

Rick looked at Daryl for clarification, noticing how tired Daryl looked.

"Beth is in Atlanta, at Grady Memorial Hospital. They've got Carol, too..."

Rick listened to Daryl's explanation, with Noah supplying the odd detail. Another crisis.

When he had finished Daryl looked at Rick with desperation. "We gotta get them, man."

Rick nodded. "We will."

He could tell what was going on in Daryl's mind. His lover blamed himself for both of the women's disappearances on his watch. His heart was heavy for his man's pain. Rick longed to take Daryl in his arms, comfort him. First, however, he had to start getting things organised. He turned around.

"Listen up, everyone! We are going into Atlanta in the morning. Beth and Carol are in the hands of a group barricaded at Grady Memorial. We're leaving first thing. Get some sleep now, we all need to be rested, it'll be a long day."

He caught Michonne's eye and she came over. Rick looked at Noah. "Thank you." Then he looked at Michonne. "Get him settled, we'll take him with us." Michonne nodded, and the two walked away.

Checking that Carl was looking after Judith Rick turned back to Daryl, who had started to pace. Rick waited until he was close enough, then put a hand on his lover's arm. "I know how you feel. You want to rush out and start the rescue right now." Daryl nodded, biting his lip. Rick continued, "We can't do that, it's not safe. C'mon, let's get some sleep. I can tell you're dead on your feet."

Daryl still looked as if he wanted to protest, but Rick could see how little energy remained in him. After a moment Daryl hung his head and nodded. Rick put a hand on Daryl's neck and together they went over to where Rick had stacked his and Daryl's packs the night before.

Rick didn't lose any time and had their blankets spread on the floor quickly. Being able to lie down together, despite the situation being again fraught with difficulty, seemed like a gift to Rick at that moment. Usually they shared their sleeping space without even touching when camping down with the group, but tonight Daryl scooted really close as soon as Rick was lying down.

"C'mere."

Rick put an arm around Daryl and the other man sank against his chest with a half-sob. It wasn't like Daryl to cry in company, but the illness had eroded a lot of his willpower. Still, Rick knew how cut up he had to be to let his guard down like this.

"'s all my fault…"

His lover's voice was almost inaudible, even this close to. Rick tightened his arms around Daryl. "It's not, man. This crazy time we live in, that's at fault. You did all you could. And we will get them back tomorrow. I promise you that."

There was a moment's silence. Then Daryl sighed. "You can't promise that, Rick. Nobody can."


End file.
